3

Jessica POV 

The next morning, I was awakened by a knock at my door. The knocks continued, and I groaned into my pillow from frustration.

Can't a woman get her beauty sleep?

"What!" I screamed.

Warren's laugh sounded from the other side, making me want to rip my hair out due to the obnoxious boy.

"Jess, it's noon. Dad wants to talk to us about something, so get up." He yells through the closed door.

"Fine," I say, "I'll be down soon."

I mentally sighed as I heard his retreating footsteps.

I grumble and get out of bed, allowing the cool air to brush my skin. I walk over to the bathroom, allowing my feet to lead the way.

I ran a hand through my hair and turned to the mirror. I turned on the faucet and then reached to grab my toothbrush and toothpaste.

After cleaning myself up, I walked back out of the bathroom and into my closet.

I browsed through my clothes and chose an oversized graphic T-shirt and a pair of black cotton boy shorts. I didn't have anywhere to go today, so I dressed in my 'home' clothing.

Before leaving my room, I grabbed my phone and placed it in my back pocket and then walked out and locked my bedroom door.

I walked through the silent corridors until I came to the spiral staircase. I could hear distant sounds from the living room as I headed down.

Sparking my curiosity, I moved closer to the commotion until my gaze landed on my father, Uncle Vincent, and Warren, who were all seated in the living room. Warren and Uncle Vincent were conversing, and my father was on the phone with someone.

When I walked in and made myself present, everyone's attention was drawn to me, and my uncle gasped.

"There's my favourite goddaughter!" He jumps out of his seat and walks over to me, grinning.

He pulls me into one of his bear hugs. "I'm your only goddaughter, Vincent," I laugh and shake my head at him.

Uncle Vincent was my father's best friend; he's been in my father's Mafia for nearly forever. My mother told me about their other best friend, but things didn't work out for him since he allegedly betrayed both my uncle and father, which neither of us appreciated.

He pulls away and kisses my forehead while smiling down at me. Uncle Vincent was a very decent-looking man, if I do say so, but the poor guy was still single.

We returned to the sofas, and I took a seat next to Warren, who wrapped his arm around my shoulder as we sat across from Uncle Vincent and our father.

Dad had gotten off the phone and turned to us with his customary stern stare. "Why are we here?" I question looking at them both.

Uncle Vincent looks over to Dad as if he were initiating for him to speak; Dad sighs and looks over to us.

"We've negotiated an alignment with the Italian Mafia." He begins. My eyes widen in surprise, as do Warren's; our father was someone who wanted to do things on his own; in other words, he wasn't one to share.

"Really?" Warren asks, astonished, and I return my focus to my father.

"The Italian Mafia isn't far behind us in the ranking; in fact, they've practically caught up to us." Uncle Vincent clarifies. "The Don contacted us and offered us a business arrangement, which we accepted."

"Well, that's good, isn't it?" I enquire, unsure myself. Uncle Vincent and Dad both nod. "Yes, it is. We're having a business dinner here tonight to finalise the agreement and meet them." Uncle Vincent says.

"Them?" I question, furrowing my eyebrows in confusion.

"The Don, Marcel Alberto, and his son, Dominic Alberto," Dad pipes in.

I carefully nod my head, taking in all of the information.

"So, what exactly is this deal?" Warren enquires, leaning back on the couch.

Vincent continues, "Our mafias will merge, and we'll share our men, weaponry, and other things." He pauses and looks at us both. "As a result of this, our mafias will be the most powerful in the world and will undoubtedly set records."

As I took in what he said, a slight smile appeared on my lips, and Warren appeared to be impressed as well.

"Please get rid of it!" From the kitchen, a voice yells.

"You're standing in front of it; you do it!"

As I heard Uncle Johnny and Aunt Tasha from the kitchen, I mentally palmed my forehead.

"Just do it, Johnny." Mum lets out a sigh.

I snorted, knowing that whatever it was was going to be making Uncle Johnny run for it. And just when that thought came to my mind, Johnny was sprinting out of the kitchen; he tripped on the carpet, stood up, and dashed back down the hall.

Vincent bursts out laughing as he sees him fall and rise again, while Tasha stands at the doorway and rolls her eyes.

She starts pointing to the kitchen and says, "There's a spider."

Mum appears from behind her, smiling sheepishly at us, as Dad rolls his eyes and rises to move towards them.

"So, what are your thoughts?" Warren asks from beside me, unfazed about the present situation.

"I think it's good," I shrug. Warren looks out the window and nods.

"And, what are your thoughts?" I ask, moving closer to him.

He sighs, "Sure, I think it is sufficient. But do you think it's a good idea to just invite a random Mafia into ours?"

I purse my lips. "If Dad consented to this out of everyone, it must indicate it's important, right?" I console, "Plus, they're not completely random; haven't we worked with some of the Italians before?"

As he nods his head, it appears that this has convinced him. "Yeah, you're right." He coincides.

I smile and clap my hands together. "You want to train with me?" I ask.

He grins as he rises from his seat, takes my hand in his, and lifts me from the sofa. "I'll take that as a yes then," I mumble as he tugs us towards the gym.

                

********************

"Missed," I murmur, and Warren rolls his eyes as he tries to hit me again, but I easily dodge it.

My hand flies between his shoulder blades as I deliver my first punch, but he deflects it. We form a circle around each other, our red gloves flung in front of us as we keep an eye on each other.

At the age of fourteen, Warren and I learnt to fight for the first time. When we were old enough, Dad made sure we knew how to defend ourselves. We then began training to be deadly killers at the age of sixteen.

Warren is more business-orientated; he prefers guns and conversation, whereas I favour knives, seduction, and bloodshed.

My eyes spot Warren's weakness and dart away fast before he realises I've noticed. He takes the first move, but I quickly counter by throwing my foot behind his leg, knocking him down.

I giggle and watch as he scowls at me before jumping back onto the ground. "You're so arrogant, Jess," he grumbles as he circles me.

I shrug innocently, but just as I'm about to make another move, a red glove is thrown in my face, causing me to stumble back.

I shake my head at Warren's amusement and return to my place, where we continue our fighting session.

Some hours later, we had packed everything away and left our gym.

We talked as we both walked to the elevators and entered. As sweat dripped from my body, I leaned against the wall in exhaustion.

"Edward and Adele will be back on Sunday," Warren informs me.

I hum, "Adele sent me a message the other day. Their vacation was supposedly 'interesting'. I remark, making him chuckle, "We're in for a year's worth of conversation then."

He mumbles, shaking his head, "I could only imagine Adele eyeing all the lifeguards."

I agree with him and hum.

Adele and Edward were our best friends. We first met in kindergarten, and the four of us have been inseparable ever since.

Adele and Edward, like Warren and me, are twins who are also members of our Mafia; their father is one of our men who assists us in delivering our shipments and other necessities. The twins aren't as involved as Warren and I, but they do occasionally accompany us.

Adele and Edward had gone to the Bahamas for Christmas break, and they would be back on Sunday, as we would be starting college again the following week.

Our bedroom floor is revealed when the elevator doors open.

We exited and began walking to our rooms; Warren's was at the far end of the hall, while mine was at the beginning.

"What time is the dinner tonight?" I ask just as he is about to enter his room.

"Seven." He replies, and I nod in return before entering my room.

I walked over to my bed after closing and locking my bedroom door.

I plopped down onto the plush mattress and stared blankly at the ceiling; my muscles felt like shit.

I looked at the clock on the wall; it was just six o'clock now, so I had plenty of time to shower and choose an outfit.

I had a strange sense that this dinner would be interesting, if not amusing, considering Uncle Vincent would be there, and he normally makes fun of everyone half of the time.

Both my uncles, brother, and father were incredibly protective of me. Men frequently like to make a move on me or like to 'play' around with me during meetings and other business-like dinners, which either result in their death or their ego being crushed by Uncle Vincent and his backhanded comments.

He would make subtle comments about the men or women with whom we held meetings, which I found hilarious since it became a source of pleasure for me to sit through them.

I pushed myself from the bed and let my legs take me to the bathroom. I locked the door and started my shower once I was inside.

I was out thirty minutes later, and after drying myself, I wrapped myself in a white cotton robe and began my skincare routine.

After applying whatever was required, I took out my hairdryer and dried it completely, then brushed it out and let my curls fall naturally.

I exited the bathroom and entered my spacious closet, where I rummaged through my clothes, trying to decide what to wear.

In the end, I chose a bronze-brown short silk dress with black tie-leg stiletto heels.

I put on my undergarments first, then dressed in my attire, adding my signature perfume and walking back into my bedroom.

A knock came on my door right on time as I had finished.

I strolled over to the door and opened it, revealing my brother, who was dressed nicely in a black polo shirt and black ripped jeans.

"They just got here." He announces, and I nod and give myself a once-over before nodding in approval and exiting my room.

Warren and I took the same path, headed for the black spiral staircase that led to the bottom floor.